Master
by Thorned Rose
Summary: Protecting your naive friend from the dark aspects of the world through kindness can backfire. He harbours a bitter hatred against all that saw him as inferior. Now he has decided it is the apt time for the world to pay the price in his quest for revenge.


**PROLOGUE**

The sound of her feet hammering the ground as she ran for her life echoed chillingly around the mainly empty hallway. Her breath came in ragged drags as her body's adrenaline was running low; she was certain she needed to escape quickly or else she would not make it out of there alive. She cursed mentally as the last light ahead of her sparked as its tungsten burnt through, leaving her with an extreme terror of being alone in the dark she had never felt before in her life. She whimpered involuntarily as she had no idea what the corridor layout ahead was like and knew the odds were not in her favour.

As if to drive her fears in deeper, she felt a rough grip on her shoulders from her silent attacker, then she was on the floor staring franticly into the darkness to try and see who it was. Asphyxiation was starting to set in as the foot pressing down on her neck increased its force. She let out a last, feral scream as her attacker flicked a lighter into life, and she saw the maniacal flames dancing back in his eyes as he laughed at her vulnerability.

"K--K"

Struggle as she might, her panic denied her the ability to form his name coherently; her lips gasped for air as she hyperventilated from hysteria. She would never have expected this as being in his capabilities, but as he increased the pressure she knew it had been a grave mistake to underestimate him. No matter how she tried she couldn't move his foot and the more she panicked the harder it was to breathe. The last thing she heard was him saying her name almost lovingly, though she knew it was just another game of his. As he heard the final crunch, he left in the darkness, laughing quietly to himself. For all of the years' trouble she caused him, she had been too little of a challenge in the end, and prayed his next target would be more amusing.

* * *

Kojiro awoke to the sounds of his partners arguing over how it was the other's fault that what should have been breakfast was now a black smouldering ball in their only frying pan. He sighed inwardly as he stood up, unwilling to face yet another tedious day if this was how it was to start; usually they made it beyond lunchtime before everything went asunder. He ran his fingers lightly over his temples in an attempt to dispel the irritating pressure amassed there; he did not enjoy waking following such a short spell of rest. He tried to make this motion as surreptitious as possible; logically speaking, his companions would have no idea he had been away from the campsite for a few hours once they'd fallen into such a deep slumber. He shut off his feelings of guilt that welled deep within him—he could not afford to remember spiking their drinks with a strong sedative in case they noticed something was different, and he could not afford to have his night's actions surfacing just yet. Shame coloured his cheeks momentarily as he recalled seeing their pleading face looking up at him from the ground…

He shook himself firmly from the reverie; it would serve ill purpose to become noticeably withdrawn lest he incurred his partners' queries, and he was in no fit state to divulge in his newest form of entertainment. He was still confused by a lot of it himself, and although he knew it was wrong it was a powerful drug to him and he eagerly anticipated when he could attain his next hit.

Shrugging his clean uniform on—or more correctly, the one that contained fewer bloodstains or tears throughout the material of the two—he mulled over how the person had stared imploringly into his eyes; although he had often fantasised about carrying it out throughout his life, it had in fact been quite terrifying to achieve his goal. He realised with sudden lucidity that Nyasu was sniffing the air in his direction, and fretted over just how keen his sense of smell was. Musashi appeared to allow her gaze to linger towards him as though she was scanning every memory residing in his cranium. He tried to convince himself it was merely his overactive paranoia, until he saw something flicker in her watery cerulean eyes.

She shortened the distance between them with what seemed to be graceful, carefully selected steps, almost as if she were afraid to step on a twig lest its resounding snap make the uncomfortable silence more pronounced. She gently leaned into him and used her forefinger to turn his glance to her face. Although his head had complied with her action, his eyes were still downcast and his cheeks coloured more; there had never been this awkwardness between them, not in the length of the time they had been as a couple, never mind mere partners in work. As she started to exhale his name he cut her off by placing one of his gloveless fingers on her lips; he could not bear to hear it uttered so soon after the last time he had heard it said. He dared to meet her gaze hesitantly and as he did she fully appreciated the distraught emotions clouding his demeanour. She proffered a half-smile but in spite of his mirroring of his actions, she acknowledged he was too distracted to mean it. As he left the clearing to relieve his full bladder, she whispered to herself in such a low decibel even Nyasu's keen sense of hearing did not detect the break in their dripping, uneasy silence.

"What did you do, Kojiro…?"

Rubbing her slightly swollen stomach subconsciously, she returned her attention to the burnt cooking and doused what she could in the hope some would remain edible to a degree, forcing her frustration of her ignorance to the back of her mind. She would inform him on a separate occasion of their forthcoming child. She loathed her rancorous realisation of knowing it was not the first time she had procrastinated the telling of their important news.

Satoshi wolfed down his breakfast hurriedly. He faced an extremely challenging battle later in the day and wished to gather all energy he could prior to it. Thoughts flashed through his head, all potential strategies and pokémon to use presenting themselves and subconsciously he discarded some as they appeared before he could process their existence. Haruka sat to his left smiling happily as she examined her ribbons, basking in her sense of achievement; she had come a long way as a person since she was that girl who cared not a thing about pokémon. Twirling her auburn hair around in her left fingers loosely, she mused over how empty her life before that change must have been.

* * *

Masato and Takeshi entered the clearing, carrying groceries that should provide them with more than enough provisions until they made their way through the vast forest to the city on the other side. Usually they would do their shopping later in the evening rather than burdening themselves with it all day, but with Satoshi's impending battle there would be little chance for it after the notorious celebrations that occurred every time. As Masato settled down to prepare his own breakfast, Takeshi took the newspaper to read whilst eating an apple; he was not particularly hungry this morning for some reason.

Subconsciously he must have learnt of the stark headline before he read it; hit intuition had rarely failed him in the past, and the incident's location was in their present vicinity. He stared at the image of the woman he knew so well, her smile and laughter visible in her eyes contrasting drastically with the article's content. Satoshi tore his attention away from his food and clutched Pikachu closer to his chest as he noticed his friend's visibly blanched face. As Takeshi turned the front page towards the youth, Satoshi's immediate response was to whimper soft "No, not her, we were gonna see her later today after so long! It's not fair!" Moments later, it became indecipherable howls of anguish.

The mirth on the woman's face in the photograph made it harder for them to accept her death. She should have still had so many years ahead of her to carry on with her career she loved so well; stealing this from her was futile and barbaric, but it did not change the fact that she was gone from their lives forever. The photograph became blurred and distorted as the ink trailed from its original location with each heavy heart-wrenched tear that fell from Takeshi's eyes to splash the crumpled page.

* * *

AN: This is an introduction to an idea I've had floating around for a little while now; all feedback will be welcomed as I intend to stretch this nearer to my epic standards in comparison to what I have released recently. Future chapters will be much longer, but this is just a prologue after all. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and Shari-sama this entire ficcie is dedicated to you, for making me get around to finally writing it and providing me with the ample inspiration to do so! 


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